


When Love Makes Us Blind

by 1avocados1



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Addiction, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Basically they hate each other, Dancing, Emotional, Enemies, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Greenhouses, Hidden Relationship, Late Night Conversations, Libraries, Love, M/M, Original Characters - Freeform, Piano, Poems, Queens, Reading, Responsibility, Romance, Royalty, Secret Messages, Secrets, Smoking, Sneaking Out, Victorian, father trouble, hehe I hate tags, im so excited about this, kings - Freeform, ok im done now, so much fluff omg, stylinson, substance use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29053935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1avocados1/pseuds/1avocados1
Summary: Two Princes born in the middle of dueling families, the only thing Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson see in each other is hatred. That is until one day, when both royal families are forced to meet up and discuss political standings, bringing the two Princes together for the first time in years. Two families, one castle, one month. How bad could it be?
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to When Love Makes Us Blind!! I literally just started to write this, but it has taken a slight interest on twitter, so I figured why not go ahead and post the prologue! I really hope you like it!

Louis' POV:

Brixton. My home, and now I have to freaking share it with a family whom my whole country hates. Okay fine- my father’s country. I guess when you're in a royal family titles actually matter. I’ve never been too keen on the whole “I’m a Prince, bow down to me” thing. It’s too snobby. Anyway, that’s not the point.

In just a few short hours the royal family of Callia will be coming here and ultimately screwing everything up. My sisters say that I’m biased and that I should give them a chance, but what do they know, they’re too young to understand what that family has placed on our - my father’s - people.

They are the enemy, the rotten eggs at the bottom of the basket, the garbage at the end of the week, and yet somehow father decided to bring them _here_.

Great. Just great.

Alas, here I am running around like a mad man keeping everything afloat while everyone else prepares for our guests. Lovely. Father says it’s great practice for when I become King, but then again, Father says a lot of things. I run from room to room, checking with the staff, making final decisions on things I have no clue about, and just when I finally get two seconds to rest my feet, Mother calls.

Queen Grace (no it isn’t her real name, but it might as well be) is nothing short of the perfect mother, and the perfect Queen. She balances being a parent and a leader so well, it’s almost magic. However, magic doesn’t exist, so I guess it’s just pure talent. She even cares for my sisters who are… a handful. Hope, the youngest, is just 6 years old. Then there’s Harmony, who’s 11, and then there’s Faith, who’s 16. Faith and I are the closest, mainly because we’re the closest in age. Still, there’s still a five and a half age gap between us.

Being older, I tend to help take care of the younger ones when Mother is in a meeting or helping out in the nearby towns. Always helping, that woman.

I make my way out of my room, down the many grand staircases to where she now was, residing with the rest of my family, including my father, King Riley. As soon as they come into view, I know what it’s about. It’s time to meet the ones who are about to make my life all the more miserable.

Fun.

I go to stand by my Father, his hand gripping my shoulder as a warning. _Behave_. Yeah right, good luck with that, _your majesty_. I put on a fake smile as I heard the carriage pull up, the horse's hooves stomping on the brick. It’s the 21st century, I don’t know why we still have carriages, and old English, and a bunch of other crap that should’ve died with the Victorian Age, but I guess my family is used to being… _traditional._

As the door opens and the squeals from my younger sisters grow louder, the feeling of dread in my stomach grows stronger. “This is a good thing, my love.” I hear my mother whisper in my ear, and then it’s finally here.

My worst freaking nightmare.


	2. The Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Styles family arrives at the castle. Louis hates it.

Louis’ POV:

When I look up, I see three people being brought in by the guards, escorted to where my family and I are standing. I recognize them immediately, although it’s been years since I last saw them. The king of Callia, King Johnathan, has his arm around his wife, Queen Caroline, and then in front of them is their daughter, Princess Maybelline Styles. My mother greets them , making sure they had safe travels and all that nonsense. I can’t help but keep my eyes peeled for the last straggler, the last Styles family member that used to get on my everlasting nerve.

As if someone was reading my mind, in comes Prince Harry Styles. He stumbles his way to his family, though he’s clearly sober, most likely just a klutz. He gives a kind smile to everyone in my family, then his eyes meet mine. His face fell into an unreadable expression, something I wasn’t expecting. I don’t think he expected it either. My mother nudges me forward towards the opposite group, directly to the unsuspecting boy.

He’s changed a lot since I saw him last. His hair is more grown out, curlier. His complexion is a little more tan, his eyes a bold shade of emerald green. He’s taller. A lot taller. I could’ve sworn he was wearing lifts or something in his shoes. Overall he’s gotten a lot more attractive (get your head out of the gutter), if only he wasn’t a class A annoyance.

His face perks up a little, clearly an act, as he sticks out his hand for me to shake. I let out a chuckle, low enough for only the two of us to hear. He draws his hand back in, the look of annoyance on his face. Luckily neither of our families noticed as our sisters caught up, our mothers talked about each other’s dresses, and our father’s talked in such a condescending way to each other.

They don’t like each other at all. I feel like that’s putting it too nicely. They _hate_ each other. Every night this week at dinner Father had gone on and on about how this whole thing isn’t necessary, and how it could all be done over the phone. I don’t get along with the man, but I was right there with him, fighting on his side. It is very unnecessary. But of course the wife always wins, because before we knew it she was making arrangements for our guests.

Harry goes to say something as the other’s talk, but I don’t let him.

“Don’t even try, Styles.” I tell him, waving him off as we are led to the dining hall where we are scheduled to have the welcoming feast. I don’t look back to see if his expression changed, but to be honest I don't really care if it did.

He stays quiet, following closely behind, a little too closely, as we all enter the dining hall. I have to say, it’s one of my favorite rooms in the castle. Not because it’s where we eat, but because of how beautiful it is. It’s decorated with flowers, candles, chandeliers, the whole package. It’s almost like in the movies, but a million times better.

We all take a seat at the oak table, something that’s been here for generations. The cutlery is placed for us, the plates shining and reflecting light from the candles. My father sits at one end of the table, Harry’s father on the other. Their wives sit next to them on the long end, and the daughters of each family sit across from their mothers. It’s almost like there was a seating chart made for each family.

I sit in one of the open seats on the side my sisters are sitting on, taking my place next to Faith. As I set my napkin in my lap, Faith elbows me in my side, gaining my attention.

“What’s your deal?” I ask, disgruntled. She doesn’t say anything, she just points to the other end of the table where the greatest annoyance in the history of annoyances is sitting. Just a few empty seats down on the other side of the table I catch him glaring over at my family’s direction, mainly at _me_.

Guess me shutting him up earlier really pissed him off.

Good.

Once my eyes meet his, he looks away, like he was caught in the act. I roll my eyes as my Father stands, a glass of champagne in his hand. He better not make a sappy toast. I’d rather live in the stables than hear him talk about how proud he is of this meeting, and how happy he is that it is happening.

“Thank you all for being here this evening.” he starts, like we had a choice in the first place. Faith and I exchange looks, and I can tell that she is thinking the same thing.

“I just wanted to let you all know that this next month will not be as dreadful as everything might think, I’ll make everything go just as planned.” he says, and with that Harry’s father shoots up from his seat, a glass also in his hand.

“ _We_ will make sure everything goes smoothly.” he interrupts. My father all but responds, sending him daggers through his eyes.

“As I was saying, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I just know that our unity, our devotion to our people, and our teamwork will be the best for both sides. Here’s to the future!” He says, toasting the month ahead.

The queens send worried looks in each other’s directions, and all of the princesses let out little giggles as they talk to each other about how fun this is all going to be. Faith looks at me, but doesn’t say anything. At least she understands.

I can’t help but look back over towards Harry, who is in a conversation with his father. They seem to get along alright, better than me and my father, anyway. Must be nice to not be judged and criticized all the time. I wonder what in the world that’s like.

Dinner goes almost okay. I kept getting glares from Harry, the girls kept kicking me under the table, and the two families didn’t talk. Not once.

How are they supposed to agree on different standing issues when they can’t even talk to each other. It had me down right worried that this whole meeting is going to cause more harm than good. But what do I know? According to my father I’m just a _kid_.

After desert the younger children got up from the table and played in the corner of the room, pretending to be princesses or something, which doesn’t really make sense because they are princesses, but I guess it’s the same for all kids. Pretending to be fictional characters for entertainment. Sometimes kids don’t make sense, but hey, at least they’re cute.

Faith is talking to my father when my mother looks over at me, playing with melted ice cream in a fancy glass bowl.

“Louis honey, you should go talk to Harry.” she suggests. Is she crazy?

“How about I don't?” I scowl, and she gives me a warning look.

“Fine then. At least go show him to his room.” She says, her voice a little more rigid. I rolled my eyes as I got up, but luckily she didn’t seem to notice. I looked over at Harry who had noticed my movements and met my gaze. I nod my head towards the door, indicating for him to follow me. I can hear his chair scoot across the floor as he stands up, his dress shoes clicking on the floor as he follows behind.

We quietly walk up a few staircases to the bedrooms. We have a few guest rooms on the hallway where my family stays, so of course my mother decided it’s best for them to stay as close as possible. I scoffed to myself, but of course nosy pants heard it and thought it was about him.

Which it is, but still.

He quickened his pace to catch up to me, meeting my strides as I tried to go a little faster without being obvious. I can feel his stare on me, trying to get inside my head, decrypt my thoughts, and most likely use them against me. Sounds like something he would do, to be honest.

I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking back at him. Instead, I slow down back to a slow walk and lead him to the North tower.

I stop in front of an old oak door, his name posted on a piece of parchment indicating that it’s his to stay in. Wait hold on this can’t be right. I look around like a mad man, trying to figure out why in the world his bedroom is right next to _mine_.

You have gotta be freaking kidding me. Now I’m pissed off.

In a more sour mood (which I didn’t think was possible) I open the door, revealing the suit fit for a... well… Prince.

I’ve been in this room a countless number of times playing hide and seek with the girls, but now it looks so different. I can tell the staff redecorated it a little bit, changing the furniture around, adding pillows and candles here and there, the whole works.

I watch Harry as he inspects the place, testing out the mattress, flicking on the lights, I guess making sure it was up to his standards or whatever. Selfish jerk. He turns around, a little shocked to see me. “Oh, you’re still here.” he says, his voice deeper than I remember, his accent thicker. I roll my eyes at him, walking toward the door.

“Louis.” He calls out right as I reach the doorknob. Ugh.

“What do you want?” I say in almost a growl. Maybe I’m sleep deprived. I don’t really know. He sticks his hand out like he’s expecting something. Staring at me with glaring eyes, I finally realize what it’s about. I stick my hand in my pocket, revealing a key that looks like its a thousand years old, just like everything in this freaking castle.

I hand the key to him and immediately walk out of his room, not leaving any room for conversation, just like how it should be. I made my way back downstairs to see that the rest of his family had been shown up to their rooms, leaving just my sisters and parents in the dining hall.

“Really, right next to mine?” I ask, yelling across the room. I am immediately shushed by everyone. They point to my mother’s lap where my youngest sister, Hope, is sleeping. I let out a sigh and go to sit by them.

“This next month is going to suck.” I say blatantly. My mother shakes her head, disapproving of my tone.

“You don’t know that, sweetheart. It could be the best month of your life.” she says, her tone optimistic, unlike mine.

“Doubt it.” I disagree, resting my head on the table, my arms catching my fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! Idk how often I'll update, but i will always announce it on twitter, so make sure you follow me!! Same handle as on here!


	3. Be Like Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rock bottom never seemed worse.

Louis’ POV:

It’s midnight. It’s midnight and it’s loud. So very loud. So loud that the walls are shaking, the floor is vibrating, it’s taking everything in me to not go ballistic.I can hear the bass thudding from the next room, a mumble of words that don’t make sense flowing through my eardrums.

He’s doing this on purpose, I just know it.

Fine, if he wants a show, I’ll give him one.

I get out of bed and throw on a robe, running my hand through my hair before making my way out of my bedroom and into his. I go to open the door, but of course it’s locked. I wish I never gave him that stupid key. I let out a heavy sigh and start knocking, which seems pointless because the music is _that loud_ , but it’s the only idea I have going for me right now.

But as soon as my fist hits the wood, the door opens swiftly, behind it the curly haired, green eyed boy behind all of the nonsense. He’s standing there, a devilish on his face, still wearing the clothes he arrived in.

“Something wrong?” he asks with a smug look on his face. I can’t believe this.

“You know I have sisters sleeping on this hall, right?” I ask him, trying not to come across as annoyed as I really am.

“Relax, it’s a long hall and we’re the only ones on this end, unless you count a few closets.” He says with a smirk.

He’s right, too. I’ve always loved the isolation that my room has. Something about being away from everyone else for a little while always brings me so much peace. Well, that was until he-who-must-not-be-named came along.

I move past him, barging into his room. He doesn’t protest like I thought he would. He just stands by the door, watching me as I find the remote to the stereo and turn the music down. For a second I contemplated throwing the remote at his head, but he’d probably just catch it and throw it back at me, so instead I set it down on his nightstand and walked back towards the door.

“Keep it down, got it?” I ask, my voice stern.

“Of course, _your highness_.” He says, trying to get a rise out of me.

I ignore him and move towards the door, looking back once more. I see the jerkface (shut up I know it’s childish) in front of me, staring right back into my eyes, like he’s trying to taint my soul. His eyes are greener than I remember, but that could just be the lighting. I shake my head and leave his room, closing the heavy door behind me.

I finally make it back to my room, taking off my robe leaving me in the obnoxious pajamas that are supplied by whoever buys my clothes. I would give anything for a normal t-shirt and pants, but apparently there’s a stinking dress code.

I plop back on my bed, pulling the sheets over my legs and situating my pillows so that I’m in the perfect spot. Something about finding that perfect spot and finally being ready to drift off to sleep, letting go of all of your troubles for a few hours while you drift off into unconsciousness is something that makes me feel a way that I can’t explain. It brings a type of contentment that can’t be matched by anything, or anyone, else. I don’t care if the most attractive person on earth was here lying next to me, nothing could compare that feeling. The warmth of the sheets radiating on my body, the softness of my pillow case against my cheek, the sound of the rain hitting my window, it’s pure bliss.

But running from my problems only brings a temporary ecstasy.

I wake up to the birds chirping, the sun shining through the window that was once washed by the rain. Morning hits and it’s like you're coming down from a high, like when you eat too much food and feel terrible afterwards, like when you know you forgot to do your homework but only remember when everyone else is turning it in.

It’s daunting.

I can’t remember the last time I woke up excited for something. It’s always dreadful waking up, having to look at life in the face and suck up to it. Especially with the responsibility, the stress, the _father_ that I have. It sucks, period.

Remember when you were a kid and got to go to bed wishing the next day would come faster so that you could go play with your friends, discuss the new toys, make up your own game, create some fantasy land, because I don’t. With me, it was all prim and proper, make sure your tie is straight, don’t mark up your shoes. Don’t be a kid. Now I’m finally grown and no one treats me like it. I didn’t let my sisters have the same fate, which is one of the reasons I help out so much. So that they can be themselves like no one is watching.

I always wished that they could have a normal childhood. Playing in the street, going to the park, going to public school is something that they don’t get to do, and it pains me to see them so hidden. It’s not like I have a choice. If I did, they would be living normal lives without everything this one brings.

I roll over to look at the clock, seeing that it’s 10:30 am. _Sh-_

I fumble out of bed, throwing on the closest outfit I can find, putting on random shoes, and making me way out of the hall. The first meeting the two families have was today and it started an hour ago, meaning I’m way late.

_Crap._

I make my way down the many stairs (would it hurt anyone to put in a few elevators) but waiting for me at the bottom is the cause of all my nightmares. He’s standing with a cup of tea in his hands, leaning against the banister.

This could mean two things. Either the meeting was postponed, or I missed it completely. With the look on curly boy’s face, I’m gonna say it was the latter. I try to ignore him as I move past him, but he follows me as I make my way towards the kitchen.

“So, you’re screwed.” Harry says, stating the obvious.

“Oh really? I had no idea.” I retort. He lets out a snicker.

“He wasn’t happy, like at all. Wouldn’t be surprised if no one ever hears from you again. He’s that angry.” he says, making my stomach drop.

_Lovely._

“It’s all your fault, you know. You kept me awake with your stupid music that sounded like nails on a chalk board.” I tell him. Who am I kidding, that’s putting it lightly.

All he does is shrug, taking another sip of his tea. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he says, acting all coy. Would anyone notice if he went missing? While I’m thinking up a list of ways to kidnap the jade eyed devil, I hear a clattering from the kitchen. I look over at Harry who doesn’t seem worried, meaning he’s probably met Margaret.

Margaret is the main chef, but a walking disaster. She makes the best food I’ve ever tasted, but gets hurt a million times in the process. Bless her. I run into the kitchen, leaving jade eyes behind, immediately searching the floor for a fallen chef. Over towards the back I see a few pans that have fallen, so I make my way over to that location, seeing her leaning against the cabinets, brushing off her apron. Her face brightens once she sees me, staggering as she gets up, using my arms for support.

“Louis dear, how are you this morning! I just made a fresh pot of tea if you are inclined!” She says, motioning to the kettle.

“I’m alright Margaret, just a little startled. Are you hurt?” I ask, giving her a once over, looking for bleeding or a bone sticking out of her body.

“Not at all dear. Now, let me get you a serving of the breakfast scramble I made earlier, sound good?” she asks, although I know she won’t take no for an answer.

“Sounds delicious.” I say, sitting on a metal bar stool at a table in the middle of the kitchen.

“Have you heard how mad he is?” I ask, hoping I can prepare for what I’m about to face. She looks at me with worried eyes. This can’t be good.

“He seems, well, not happy to say the least.” she says, setting a plate full of breakfast scramble, strawberries, and bacon. “Probably isn’t showing all his anger though, to remain professional and all that. He did tell me, however, that he wants to see you after you eat. If I were you, I would take my time.”

“This month is already off to a rough start.” I sigh, taking a bite of bacon.

“Honey, it can only go up from here. That’s the best part about hitting rock bottom.” she says with a grin.

I give her a kind smile back, my mind elsewhere. I’m dead. I’m literally dead. I missed the most important meeting of my life. Like Harry said, I’m screwed.

Wow, never thought I would agree with him on anything, but here we are.

After I finish eating, Margaret gives me a weary smile and I make my way to my father’s office. I walk slowly, the staff and maids giving me worried expressions as I walk down the long halls. I give them nods in return, really not look for their pity.

I hate pity. It’s stupid and pointless and gets you no where. So people feel bad for you? Big whoop. It literally does nothing to help you, so why do people even bother?

I hear the girls playing in his office when I approach the doorway, their dolls on the floor, hair bands and costume pieces everywhere. I guess he was meant to be a girl-dad. Having a son on the other hand..

“Come on in, Louis.” I hear his stern voice from inside. I swallow the lump in my throat and step into the dim office, the girls looking up to great me. Even they know that something's wrong. I don’t like it when they know stuff like that, it chips away at their childhood. He goes to say something, most likely starting a rant, but I can’t let the girls hear this.

“Look, I know you're mad, but can we not do this in front of them?” I ask, pointing to the girls. He nods and I hear them walk out, most likely led by Faith. I sit down on one of the chairs facing his desk, getting ready for the storm that I see brewing.

“I expect more from you.” he starts. Here it comes. I just nod, letting him continue.

“I can’t have you making mistakes like this when you’re going to be leading this country in a few years.” I nod once more, but scowl on the inside. _Not that I want to rule the country, but go on._

“I need more from you, son. I can’t have you being a disappointment at our country’s peak.” he says, and I can’t hide my frustration.

“Disappointment? Country’s peak? Father, we are at the lowest we’ve ever been. Whatever this peak you're speaking of, it doesn’t exist."

“Don’t take that tone with me. I won’t have that.” he says, repeating something that I’ve heard a million times over.

“Do better. Put this country first. Nothing else. I don’t care if you have to stay up all night, you will be a better leader. Do you understand?” He asks, and I nod once again.

“Louis,” he says as I make my way to the door. I turn around, seeing his face. He’s trying to decide if he wants to say what he’s thinking.

“Be like Harry.” he says, and I can feel my blood boiling. He can’t be serious.

“Don’t bring him into this. He’s not all roses and champagne, father. He makes mistakes, too.” I tell him. He shakes his head.

“But not ones that affect his career. He’s careful. You should be too.” I leave without another word, pulling at my tie while my lungs try to fill with air.

Be like Harry… not a chance.

He wasn’t as stern as I thought he was going to be, he chose a different approach he knew would get under my skin.

He brought up the person I hate the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked it! I really liked writing this one haha. I still don't have a posting schedule, but if I end up making one, I will let you all know! Make sure to follow me on twitter! Same handle as on here!
> 
> Also!! I envision Margaret as Sookie from Gilmore Girls!


	4. Dynamic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A book, a library, and a greenhouse walk into a bar...
> 
> TW// Recreational drug use.

Louis’ POV:

“He makes me so mad.” Faith says, her fork clattering on her empty plate. We’re in the kitchen with Margaret hiding from the real world.

“Says you, he actually likes you. Plus I saw you talking to him at dinner last night.” I tell her, grabbing our plates and taking them over to the sink. Margaret bats my hands away and starts to wash them herself, never allowing me to help.

“Just because we talk doesn’t mean I like him. They guy is too proud to like anyone else but himself and mom. He only loves her because she’s the love of his life, though I’ll never understand how that works." She shrugs.

“You both should be grateful, you know there are many people who have it a lot worse. Sure he’s a mean bloke, I’m sure he still cares.” Margaret says, wiping her hands with a dish towel.

“We are more than grateful, we just can’t stand him.” I reassure her. She gives me a nod, then Faith changes the subject.

“Where’s Harry and Maybelline?” Faith asks, noting they aren’t in the kitchen. I shoot daggers through my eyes at the mention of Harry’s name.

“They were walking around the courtyard last time I heard.” she says, trying to contain her laughter at my demise. Faith grabs my arm and starts dragging me along with her.

“No Faith, I’m not going anywhere near him.” I say, struggling against her clutch on my sleeve.

“Fine, wimp. But I’m going because I’m not a jerk who won’t welcome their freaking guests.” she says, stomping off. I roll my eyes at her, then beeline to the library.

It’s my hideaway. I could get lost in there for hours. Diving into different fantasy lands, becoming a protagonist who saves the day. There is a corner of the library that no one goes in, except me. Then again, no one ever really goes to the library. People are either working or helping out my Father, but since this morning I figured it was safer to stay away for today. Might even make him happy.

I pace up and down the isles, running my hands along the spines of the books. They are all older, spines breaking and falling to pieces, but all insanely beautiful. Not many people know that I read outside of my family, mainly to protect my pride. Though, that sounds stupid being who I am, I still get insecure. It doesn’t matter if you are the most perfect person to ever exist, you still have insecurities.

Mother says it’s silly to think about the little things like insecurities, but I don’t think she fully understands it. Faith does, though. We’ve spent countless nights staying up, talking about how it’s harder on our generation now than it was when our parents were teenagers.

Guess it makes sense though, things change through generations just like stories.

Maybe it’s a chemical imbalance. I don’t know.

I find a rather newer book that looks like it has just been stocked. I make my way to the back of the library, curling up against a shelf in the corner. My father would disapprove of me sitting on the floor, getting my clothes dirty, but what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. Not now, at least. I stare at the cover of the book.

Eighteen Years.

Not knowing anything about it, I open the cover reading a little about what is now a book of poetry when I hear someone clear their throat, standing above me. I lower my book, my eyes trained to the sleek and shiny dress shoes that the boy in front of me is wearing. My eyes trail up his legs, up his torso, finally landing on the smug look on his face, his green eyes blazing in an emerald fire.

“I was reading that.” he grumbles, his voice low. I let out a heavy sigh.

“Too bad, I’m reading it right now, you can have it later.” I tell him.

He didn’t like that.

He snatched the book out of my hands and darted back to the shelves. I followed after him, getting lost in the maze of bookshelves. Usually it would be a dream to get lost in this library, but now all I can think about is getting that book back.

Slowly, I turn the corners, walk down different isles, my ears trying to keep track of every little sound, every little stir. I hear a few pages turn and I perk up, my whole body on alert. I hear the book being slid back onto the shelf, then I hear a set of heavy footsteps. Panicked, I carefully make my way back to the little corner I was in, but I wasn’t quick enough. I feel an equal pressure on both of my hips, then the next thing I know I’m spun around and being pressed against the nearest bookshelf. Harry isn’t too close, but I can feel his breath against my face as he stares down at me, holding me in place. I’m trying to feel repulsed, but suddenly I forgot the reason.

“Running away?” he asks with a smirk. My mind is too frazzled to answer, so I say the first thing that came to mind.

“Thought you were gonna read.” I say, my voice in a high-pitched whisper. He shrugs.

“Suddenly I didn’t feel so much like reading.” he says, his eyes darting between mine.

Suddenly he removes his hands from my hips and moves away, chuckling to himself. I take a second to catch my breath. No, it wasn’t attractive, I can tell what you're thinking. It was rude, if anything, and took me by surprise. He’s still a total douche, just one with a perfect smile. By the time he turns around to see me again he’s standing in the open area of the library.

“You coming?” he asks, like I should’ve known he wanted me to follow. “I’m not going to kill you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’ve made it my goal to stay as far away from you as possible.” I tell him, staying put.

“Alright, suit yourself.” he says, walking away.

He doesn't look back to check if I am walking behind him, he just leaves the library. I find my feet moving in his direction, even though my head is screaming at me to return to the book. My feet pick up momentum and eventually I catch up to Harry, who is just strolling throughout the castle corridors. “Thought you wanted to stay away from me.” he says, not looking my way. This time I shrug.

“Suddenly I didn’t feel so much like reading.” I say, quoting his words. Before we know it we’re outside, heading towards the greenhouses, another one of my favorite places here. They are usually empty of people around this time, and somehow Harry knew that.

We get inside the greenhouse and he closes and locks the door behind us, then turns to me as he’s taking something out of his pocket. At first I was sure he lied earlier about not killing me, but I see it’s a little tin, a lighter, and a pack of cigarettes. Okay maybe I hate him a little less now.

He takes the lid off of the tin revealing a film around a green drug. He takes one and places one end in his mouth. He sets down the tin on the bench and then takes his lighter, hovering over the end of the stick with his hand and letting the flame burn the end. He inhales a puff of the drug before breathing it back into the air. Finally he stares at me, offering me one or the other. I take a cigarette and follow the same motions to light it, the process very familiar to me. I used to have the staff sneak in pretty much anything flammable and smoke able a few years back, but the habit died over the years since I didn’t do it often. I fill my lungs with the pollutant and then exhale, blowing it to the side away from Harry’s face.

“Thanks.” I say, motioning to the stick in between my fingers. He just nods, taking another hit off of his.

“Heard your sister in the courtyard talking to mine about your father, figured you would need a little pick me up. I get it, the whole dad thing.” he says, and to be honest I don’t really know what to say.

I’ve never seen this side of him, and it could very well be the drugs. I’m also a little confused. Harry and his dad seemed to get along fine. He could see my confusion as I placed the cigarette between my lips.

“He wants everyone to think we get along, but it’s quite the opposite behind closed doors.” he says, his brow furrowed. I just nod, hoping it gives off what I needed to say. “He told me to be more like you, that you don’t make any mistakes that affect your career.” I tell him, expecting him to laugh. He doesn't. He just leans forward from his position on the bench and stares at me like he’s trying to see into my head, into my thoughts.

“He’s wrong. I’ve made mistakes, probably more than you. He’s wrong.” He says, his head shaking frantically, his hands trembling. My heart rate increases at the change in the atmosphere that just occurred, the tension that just built up on it’s own.

“Are you okay?” I ask, hesitantly. I almost reached my hand out, aiming for his arm, but he shot up off the bench and started pacing in the greenhouse, the ashes falling off of the stick in between his fingers.

He nods, rubbing his neck and taking another puff. Pretty soon his eyes were going to be bloodshot red if he wasn’t careful. He calms down a little, taking a seat on the bench again. It’s just a little chilly in the September air, something I would’ve appreciated if Harry wasn’t making me nervous.

“Sorry. Fathers huh?” he asks in a nervous laugh. All I can do is chuckle back, but my mind wonders. It wonders what made him so anxious, why he freaked out, what did his father see in him that made him seem so awful.

By this time the sky is seeping from a bright blue to a rustic orange over the hillside. Something else I would marvel over if I hadn’t been so worried and focused on the boy with a racing heart and jittery hands in front of me.

We don’t talk after that, all we can hear is the birds chirping, our sisters laughing, and then as it got darker, we heard crickets, bats, and even an owl. The only prominent noise from inside the greenhouse was our breathing. His breaths were quicker than mine, and more shallow. It seemed like he was trapped in his thoughts, because when I stood up, he jumped like someone was popping out from around the corner, scaring him. He looks at me, stunned, but then recovers as he stands up, putting everything back in his pockets, picking up the remnants of everything he smoked so that we couldn’t be caught.

“Margaret is making something good tonight, so I guess we should head in.” I tell him, my voice croaking from not talking in a while.

“What is she making?” he asks, heading towards the door. My shoulders bob up and down.

“I dunno.” I step outside, the cold weather more evident.

“Then how do you know it’s going to be good?” he asks, closing the door to the greenhouse behind him, walking alongside me. I can’t wrap my mind around this new dynamic between us. Something's shifted, I just can't define what it is.

“Because it’s Margaret. She might be a total spaz, but she’s the best chef I’ve ever met. Pretty sure she has magical power.” I tell him, but he doesn’t laugh at my joke. He just keeps his head down, his eyes on his feet. I frown, wondering what in the world is going on in his head. Guess it’s something I’ll never know, but I know it’s going to drive me crazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked this one!! Definitely my fav so far! Thanks for all the love, see you soon! 
> 
> Make sure to follow me on twitter, same handle as on here! 
> 
> It's been hard to write and do school at the same time, but I am doing my best! You just might not get a chapter every other day like before. 
> 
> Also the book is "Eighteen Years" by Madisen Kuhn, and I highly recommend it!


	5. Masks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry acts like everything's okay, Louis couldn't care less, or so he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii! I'm so so so so so so so so so so sorry for not updating in the past few weeks! I have been so busy lately, but finally found some time to write! I can't wait for the next few chapters, but first, I hope you enjoy this one! Make sure to follow me on twitter (same handle) and let me know what you think!
> 
> Also I wish I wrote this in a different point of view, so if I edit it and switch it up on you guys, don't be surprised loll
> 
> Also the poem used in this chapter is from the book Eighteen years by Madisen Kuhn, and it's called masks!!

Louis’ POV:

Things that night at dinner were strange, to say the least. Harry was _happy._ Well not exactly, he was acting happy. It was like what happened in the greenhouse just blipped out of reality. I shouldn’t be surprised, I knew he would act like this, but I had hopes that he wasn’t just going to bottle it all up again, but here we are.

My eyes are on the Styles family all night, and his eyes are anywhere but me. Every time his eyes glance my way, he looks through me, not at me, like I’m a ghost. He laughs at every joke, he smiles at every nod, he even talks to my younger sisters. No one else notices how he bites his lip or picks at it with his fingers when he stares down at his plate, or how his eyes are sort of glazed over. How his fingers fidget around his fork as he twirls the noodles of Margaret’s famous Linguine. How he isn’t Harry. He’s the shell of Harry.

I hate that I’m the only one who sees it, when I couldn’t care less in the first place. I guess I have the advantage of seeing his little freak out in the greenhouse, but still, his family should notice. At least his sister should. 

Towards the end of dinner he excuses himself and heads up towards his room, my sisters heading to theirs. I watch as he walks away, his pace a little faster than I remember, but I haven’t seen him much so I guess I’m not such a reliable source.

I look over to my Mother, who seems to be talking to Faith about her grades. Ah school. Don’t miss it for a second. 

“I’m going up as well. If you need me I’ll be upstairs.” I tell her, earning a nod as she pays attention to the argument that Faith is making, saying her teacher isn’t a good teacher, that it’s not her fault. I had her teacher, and I know she’s right, but I didn’t say anything. I just excuse myself and make my way towards the staircase. 

I pause on the first step, already contemplating how I can burst through his door in the most dramatic way possible. The steps beneath me vibrate to the beat of some indie song, one much different than the one from our previous nightly encounter. It’s much louder than last night, and now his door is open, not blocking out the sound at all. At once I fled up the stairs, focused on stopping the music before both of the families downstairs could hear it. But as soon as my foot crosses the threshold, the music stops. It’s not lower, it’s not changing to the next song, it stops. I can hear the little beep that indicates that the stereo was turned off, and the remote landing on the bedside table. I look up to see Harry underneath his covers, the top three buttons on his pajama shirt undone. 

“Good, you got my message.” he says pointing to the stereo. I stare at him, bewildered. I give the whole room a once over before moving father into what might be a trap of some sort. With him it’s hard to tell.

I wait for him to start talking, but he seems to be trapped in his own mind, like an animal stuck in a cage, trying to claw his way out. I can tell whatever he’s about to say, he really needs to say it, but at the last second he backs down and puts on a mask again, hiding any ounce of emotion that had once stained his jaded eyes.

“Could you not snore so loudly? I could hear you through the walls all last night, drove me crazy.” he says, getting underneath the sheets. 

“Harry I-” I start. If he won’t talk about it I will.

“Like get some nose strips or something, geesh.” He interrupts. I closed the door a little harder than I should have, both him and I secluded in his room.

“What happened in the greenhouse?” I ask him, not letting his gaze leave mine. 

“What are you talking about?” he replies in total innocence. It’s making me sick. 

“The greenhouse?” I repeat.

“What, you get in trouble for smoking?” he snickers. I roll my eyes at him, making my way back towards the door. 

“No, I just wanted to see if you were… okay.” I say, reluctantly. I don’t care, but it’s hard not to see the signs.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He mumbles, closing his eyes. “Shut the door behind you, will you?” he asks before he’s completely still, sleep overtaking him.

I stare at the sleeping boy who has temporarily escaped all his troubles, all his demons. How he’s curled up in a ball, all innocent, like nothing bad has ever come near him. His short sleeves reveal countless number of tattoos that are usually covered by his expensive suits, something I didn’t expect someone proper like him to have. His curly hair laying over his temples, his eyelashes fluttering as he drifts off into a deeper state of sleep.

I blink, hard, and turn sharply toward the door, breaking my trance I didn’t voluntarily fall into. I quietly move out of his room, shutting his door behind him, I hear him roll over, his sheets tossing in different directions. I look down the hallway and I see Faith standing a few feet away from me, giving me an uneasy stare. She places her hands on her hips, her brow arching as I move closer to my door and away from her. I close my door and flop onto my bed, but my silence is soon interrupted by Faith storming into my room and falling beside me on the bed. 

“So when did you and Harry become a thing?” she asks, poking my side. I push her, making sure she doesn’t roll off the bed.

“We’re not.” I tell her sternly. She lets out a laugh and leans on her side. She has a look of disbelief on her face.

“I swear! We hate each other’s guts!” I scold her, trying to prove my point. I don’t know what she doesn’t understand about this.

“So you coming out of his room tonight was just, what, a coincidence?” she asks, and my eyes pop out of my head.

“Oh my- Faith, seriously?” I can’t believe her.

“What, it looked suspicious, that’s all.” she says, getting up, dodging a pillow I threw in her direction. “Thought something happened in the greenhouse too. I know Maybelline was definitely curious.” she says.

_Lovely._

“Nothing happened. Nothing like that at least. We just… talked.” I tell her, not sounding convincing at all. 

“Hm. I’m sure.” she says, skepticism written all over her face.

“You’re annoying.”

“Am not, just intrigued.

“Whatever.”

With that she leaves, thankfully without another word. I get up out of bed and get my pajamas on, and overall just tidy up a bit since I haven’t done that in a while. Everyone thinks the staff does all of our tidying up, but Mother thinks we should do it ourselves, and I’m kind of glad she does. I like my room in a very specific way. It’s the only part of this castle that I can be completely alone without the chance of being interrupted. 

I separate my laundry and put it in my dresser, hang my shirts in my closet, move my work papers to my desk, fold some blankets that wound up on the floor, and move some stray books to my bookshelf. 

When I move over to the bookshelf, I notice one book that doesn’t belong here. I set the other books down before glancing over to the newcomer once more. I gently slide it out from between the other books and read the spine, confusion crossing over my face, realization coming soon after. 

_Eighteen Years._

In my hands is the very book that Harry took from me, before that moment in the library that I would very much not like to talk about. I flip the pages, letting them quickly slide through my fingers, not looking for anything specific, just examining the book since I was so rudely interrupted earlier. I take the book back to my bed and set it on my nightstand. Once I got comfortable, I flipped through the book once more, landing on a random page and started to read. 

I end up reading for another hour before I drift off to sleep, arguably in the best position for snoring. 

After what only feels like a few minutes of sleep, I’m woken up with a knock on my door. I open my eyes to see the sun shining through my window, birds chirping in the distance. I hear another knock at the door, this time louder than the one before. I let out a heavy sigh and threw back the covers, immediately exposed to the cold air. A shiver runs down my spine as I make my way across the cold hardwood floor. I take a look in the mirror before I get the door, trying to make sure I don’t look like I just woke up, even though I did. I hear yet another knock.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.”

I open the door to find no one there. I look down the hall then down to my feet to see a stack of papers waiting idly with a large sticky note reading “9:30”. I pick up the stack of papers and make my way over to my desk, shuffling through them. They are the notes from yesterday’s meeting. Notes with Harry’s name on them.

I can’t help but laugh at the irony. He acts like a horrible bloke who couldn’t give a crap about any of us, but look at that, he actually has a soul.

I get ready for the day with an hour to spare before the meeting. I make my way to the kitchen where I see Margaret standing by the stove humming to a song playing in the background. 

“Hello darling!” Margaret calls as she turns around, flinging hot grease all over the kitchen with her spoon. She looks up at me a little embarrassed, but I just laugh and shake my head. 

“What are we ever to do with you, Margaret?” I joke, grabbing paper towels. She just rolls her eyes, returning back to her dish that she’s making. To the look of it, it seems to be sausage. Once I wipe down the walls and counter tops, I make my way over to Margaret who puts two sausage patties on my plate, along with eggs and strawberries. As I got to sit at the bar stool, Margaret stopped me.

“You can’t hide in here forever, love.” she says, a kind smile on her face. I let out a sharp breath, one not directed towards her, but people in the neighboring room.

“It’s not impossible.” I mumble, still standing by my seat. I know I’m not going to win this one, so I pick up my plate and make my way to the dining hall, giving a nod to Margaret on my way out.

Once I enter the dining hall, all eyes drift up to my direction. In the room are the two royal families, a few ambassadors, and few other people in father’s posse. I take the last empty seat, my cheeks fire hot as the conversation in the room dies down to a lull. I stare down at my plate waiting for the conversation to pick back up, but of course it does in the worst way possible.

“Nice of you to actually join us, son.” Father says, his voice especially deep and menacing. I don’t look up at him as I push the strawberries around on my plate with my fork, but I can feel that he isn’t done.

“Maybe this time you can actually participate, like Harry, for instance.” He says, and there it is. I’ve always had a short fuse with this guy. I push my chair back and pick up my plate, mumbling something resembling _I’ll see you all in the meeting_ as I walk back into the kitchen, snickers and chuckles following me. I hear my mother calling my name, but that’s not all I heard. 

I can hear Harry’s snickers and snide remarks over everyone else, and for some reason that I can’t identify, those ones hit me the hardest. I usually couldn’t give a crap what he thinks, but it’s something about how he of all people would understand, yet he joins in on his father’s games. 

Margaret doesn’t say anything to me when I sit down at one of her working stations, something I am grateful for. I eat in silence and leave silence, only speaking when I insist on doing my own dishes. 

With 20 minutes left until the meeting I make my way to the garden, watching as the gardeners pluck fresh flowers and trim back the leaves. The are benches along a path that goes through the garden, so I pick one and sit, noting that I can’t be here long before I have to make my way back inside. 

I pull the notes Harry left me out from inside my suit pocket, unrolling them and flattening them out on my leg. I flip through the pages, skimming each one and reading notes written in the margins. He’s about halfway through when he comes across something that most likely wasn’t meant to be seen by his blue eyes, but he can’t stop reading the words in front of him, what feels like a magnetic force keeping his eyes glued to the page. 

_Keep your mind on a tight leash, because if you let your thoughts wonder, they may end up in the clouds where your hopes are in the perfect position to tragically fall._

I've seen this before, I know I have. I must've read it last night before I fell asleep.

Only when I hear leaves crunching do my eyes rip from the page, a sinking feeling forming in my stomach as I realizes I'm no longer alone.


End file.
